A Journey Of Discovery
by Jay of Lasgalen
Summary: Elladan and Elrohir take their first extended journey outside Imladris, where Elrohir makes a startling discovery about himself. Chapter Seven: Discoveries And Surprises. There are a few more surprising discoveries in store before the twins return home.
1. Journey To Bree

**A Journey Of Discovery**

**Chapter One – Journey To Bree**

Elrohir lay on his back on the soft grass, gazing at the sky. "I could get used to this," he mused.

"Mmm," Elladan grunted in reply. "No studying. No lessons. Life like this would be good."

They were on the first day of a journey to Mithlond – the furthest they had ever travelled from Imladris. Elrond had business with Círdan the Shipwright, and after much begging and pleading, he had finally agreed that the twins could also journey with him – and then, inevitably, Celebrían also went. Two of the border guards accompanied them for protection, but that was it.

"Nothing we _have_ to do. No jobs or tasks," Elladan continued with a note of satisfaction. Their parents insisted that they helped with some of the chores performed by the servants at times, so that they understood the work involved in running a household the size of Imladris, and did not become accustomed to 'a life of ease', as Elrond phrased it.

They lay a moment longer, then Elrohir raised his head as Eilenach, one of the guards, passed them. He carried several water skins. "I am going to fetch more water," he told them. "Do you want to come?"

"And _I_," Ilmarin added, "am going to catch some rabbits for our supper. Who wants to go hunting?"

"I do!" Elladan responded quickly.

Elrohir hesitated, then scrambled to his feet and went towards Eilenach. "I'll go with you, then," he said. "It wouldn't be fair if we both help Ilmarin, and leave you on your own."

As Eilenach handed him two of the water carriers, Elrohir followed the guard down to the water's edge. He was about to fill the first skin when Eilenach stopped him. "Wait. Think about which way the stream flows first. And what do we need to use water for?"

"Drinking, for us and the horses," Elrohir replied immediately. "Washing. And …" he paused, thinking. "What else?"

"Washing up, among other things," Eilenach said. "Now, do you think we should take the drinking water from upstream or downstream after someone has washed?"

Elrohir grimaced as he understood. "Upstream. I wouldn't want to drink water Elladan had just washed in!"

Eilenach nodded his approval. "Good. Take your dagger, and cut four clumps of grass. Like this." He cut a small turf, turned it over deftly, and replaced it in the hole he had made. The rich, dark soil showed up vividly against the green grass. "Cut three more, evenly spaced. Put the last one down there." He pointed downstream. "In the morning, before we leave, we will put the grass back in place, so there is no lasting damage."

"Why four?" Elrohir questioned as he set to work. "Drinking, washing, washing up – why do we need four?"

Eilenach pointed to the furthest point, where Elrohir had just placed the final mark. "That is where we pee in the river!" he explained with a grin.

Elrohir returned to their camp site, and rounded up the horses to guide them down to the river to drink. By the time he finished, their bed rolls had been set out, a bright fire was crackling, and Elladan and Ilmarin were preparing the last of the rabbits they had caught. Elladan looked up with a grin, his hands bloody. "Supper will be ready soon, El!" he called.

o-o-o

Celebrían licked her fingers as she finished the last of her meal, and sighed contentedly. "Look at them both," she said, watching the twins as they argued amiably over which of them should get the final sliver of meat. "They seem so happy. It was a good idea to allow them to come on this trip – and I am very glad that I decided to come! The break from routine will do us all good."

Elrond laughed as Eilenach settled the argument by snatching the disputed morsel and eating it himself. "Yes. The new lands they will see; the different races – it will be good for them." He chuckled in amusement. "Do you see that?"

Elrohir had gathered up the wooden platters they had eaten from, and the utensils they had used. He called to his brother. "Come on, El – we'll do the washing up. It's this way; I'll show you. Did you know that we have to do things like washing, and washing up, and peeing, all at different places, and well away from where we get drinking water? Eilenach told me!"

Celebrían smiled. "Can you imagine them volunteering for tasks like that at home? Fetching water, gutting rabbits – and washing up! And to think Elladan told me earlier how glad he was that they would not have to learn anything or _do_ anything for the next few weeks!"

o-o-o

The journey continued in a similarly peaceful fashion. They would rise early, breakfasting on cold rabbit, berries or nuts, and anything else left over from the previous evening's meal. The ashes of the fire, now cold, would be cleared, and soil scattered over the remains. They left no trace of their passage.

Taking to the road again, they would walk or ride all morning, with a brief halt at mid-day to rest the horses, eating waybread from their supplies. Before dusk fell, they would seek a camp site, and quickly fell into the routine of setting it up.

The novelty of performing these necessary tasks had not worn off for the twins, and they cheerfully turned to the jobs assigned them for the evening, listening avidly as Eilenach, Ilmarin or their parents explained something.

Celebrían and Elrond were not exempt from the work either, and one evening Celebrían took her sons down to the river to show them how to catch fish.

"Wait there on the bank, and watch. Be very quiet," she instructed them. She stood, knee-deep in the chilly water, perfectly still. "You must be patient," she breathed, as Elrohir shifted restlessly. Her hands were submerged, and before long a brownish-coloured fish swam lazily through them. With a move like lightning, she cupped her hands and straightened, scooping the fish out of the water and tossing it onto the bank.

Elladan and Elrohir were open-mouthed with astonishment. They had fished before, of course, using a baited hook and a length of thread, but had never imagined that their mother had _this_ skill.

"Come down here, and I will show you."

The twins joined her in the water, copying her stance. Elrohir stood silently, holding his breath. Almost immediately a fish swam near him. He grabbed at it, but it smoothly evaded his grasp and was gone, leaving him with nothing but a handful of river. Elladan howled with laughter, and Elrohir vented his frustration by splashing a wave of water at his brother.

"Stop it!" Celebrían scolded them. "If you disturb the fish like that, we will never catch them. Then what will you have for supper? Do not be too hasty."

They subsided, and waited again. Elrohir concentrated on remaining still, ignoring the cold of the water that hurt his hands, and willing a fish to come to him. He looked up at a sudden splash, and saw that his mother had caught another fish, even larger than the first. Almost immediately, Elladan gave a crow of triumph as he caught his own. "I did it! Did you see, El? I did it!"

Elrohir grinned at his brother's success, though he wished _he_ had been first. "Well done," he replied briefly, now even more determined to succeed. He had no wish to be the only one unable to contribute to their meal that night. A flicker of movement in the water caught his eye, and he froze, holding his breath again. A large brown trout glided towards him, but he made no move. Not yet. _'Come here, fish. Just a little closer. Come here," _ he willed it silently. It came closer, and closer, and then – it was within his hands, brushing against his fingers. He felt almost sorry as he scooped it up and threw it onto the bank.

Celebrían smiled at them both. "Well done!" she praised. "Just one or two more, I think."

Elladan was able to catch one more, and then Celebrían caught a sixth and final fish. There was more than enough for their supper, and there would be some left over for breakfast the next day. They began to wade out of the river, when suddenly Celebrían slipped on the slick stones. She sat down hard in the icy water, and a lurid curse escaped her before she clamped her lips together. "Mother!" Elladan and Elrohir exclaimed together, both shocked to hear her use such language.

She looked at their horrified expressions, and burst into laughter. "I apologise, my dears. You should not have heard me say that. Please forgive me. Now, will you help me up, please?"

They made their way back to the camp site, wet, cold, flushed with laughter, and triumphant over their catch.

o-o-o

As they drew nearer to Bree, they began to see more and more signs of habitation. There were isolated farmsteads, tiny hamlets in the distance, and they began to pass more travellers on the road – farmers, traders, a travelling minstrel. There were even dwarves, in pairs or groups; stumping along in heavy boots or riding small, stout ponies. The land to the north was flat and marshy, and a cold breeze blew towards them from the windswept wastes.

Elrohir tried hard to conceal his excited curiosity. It was difficult, though – there was so much to see, so much that was new and completely unfamiliar. A glance at Elladan showed that he was just as excited, looking in all directions at once, trying to see as much as possible. It was the first time either of them had been anywhere near a village of men, although they had met several of the Dúnedain of Arnor. The only other long journey they had ever made had been a visit to their grandparents' realm of Lórien, along with what had seemed like half of Imladris; and they had seen no-one else then for the entire trip.

"Look!" Celebrían's voice came from behind them. Turning, he looked where his mother was pointing, at a single-storeyed building, dwarfed by four great triangular sheets of material, attached to frames of wood. The whole framework turned slowly about a central point in some way. "Whatever is that?" she continued.

Elrohir had never seen such an odd-looking structure. He shared a glance with Elladan. It amused them both to see their mother every bit as entranced and excited by some of the strange things they saw on their journey as they were.

"A windmill," Elrond began to explain.

Elladan had been listening, and was studying the building carefully. "It works like the watermill at home," he reasoned thoughtfully. "Only it uses wind to make it work, not the river. The wind turns the sails, and they turn gears and wheels inside. Is that right?"

Elrond nodded. "Yes. Well done." He smiled. "The people here use windmills to grind wheat and corn for flour, not waterwheels."

Elrohir was impressed. Elladan, rather more mechanically minded than he was, had been quick to see the similarities between two very different places, and work out how the mill operated. He had no intention of showing his twin that he was impressed, though. "Show-off!" he muttered disdainfully. Elladan merely grinned at him.

"Jealous, little brother?" he asked with a smirk.

They passed an inn, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, began to drop down into a wooded valley, then climbed again.

"Look, there is Bree." Elrond pointed ahead as they emerged from the trees. A hill rose ahead of them in the distance, and a number of small houses clustered around the lower slopes, partly hidden by a great hedge.

As they drew nearer, Elrohir realised that the road did not circle the town, as he had supposed, but actually passed through it. A deep ditch lay in front of the hedge, and the road crossed this by a stone bridge, and passed through a gate. The gate stood open now, but he guessed that it would be closed at nightfall. He and Elladan had assumed that they would pass by the town completely, and only see it from a distance – but now it seemed that they would actually go through it, and see the people, the houses, the town itself, all at close hand.

"We can do one of two things," Elrond continued. "It is early, so we could pass through and camp by a forest that lies some way further along the road – or if you wish, we can halt overnight at the inn here, and continue in the morning. Which would you prefer? Celebrían?"

Elrohir scarcely dared breathe. Silently, desperately, he willed his mother to agree to the inn. Beside him, Elladan had gone very still, and he knew that his twin was equally anxious.

Celebrían considered. "I would love to be able to wash in _hot_ water, and to wash my hair," she announced. "I think we would all appreciate food we do not have to catch and cook ourselves, and real beds. The inn, I think. Do you all agree?" The others nodded. Even the two guards looked relieved, Elrohir noticed.

They passed through the gate and rode along the road, which now formed the main street of the town. Elrohir quickly realised that he and Elladan were far more curious about the people here than they were about him. The elves drew a few curious glances, but were largely ignored. He supposed that the Bree-folk must be used to odd travellers, living as they did so close to the crossing of the West and North roads. He gazed about him as they passed several houses and gardens, and narrow, intriguing-looking lanes that led between them. They passed several people, some hurrying about their business, others ambling slowly here and there. Two women gossiped companionably over a low wall between their houses.

Edging his horse nearer to Elladan, he pointed to a flight of steps that climbed up the side of the hill, towards yet more houses. "El, I want to explore. Do you think we'll be allowed?" he whispered. "I want to see where all these little pathways go!"

Elladan nodded. "I hope so. Look at the houses! They seem so small. Let's ask, as soon as we get to the inn. And the people! There are so many of them!"

The inn itself lay on the far side of the town, facing the road. A central archway led to a courtyard and stables, and a door on one side of the arch led into the inn. As Eilenach and Ilmarin led the horses beneath the archway into the courtyard, Elrond pushed open the door that led into the inn itself. Elrohir and Elladan followed him closely, while Celebrían stood on the steps just outside, gazing at the bustling courtyard.

They stood in a long hallway, with doors on the left and right. The door on the left stood open, and led to a long room that seemed to run the width of this side of the inn. There were many table and chairs, a fireplace at both ends, and a long wooden counter along the rear wall. Several of the tables were occupied, and the cheerful chatter died away briefly as the customers studied them, then resumed drinking.

A short, cheerful-looking man stood behind the counter, wiping it with a not-too-clean cloth. He looked up and smiled in greeting. "Well now, welcome to The Prancing Pony!" he announced in Westron. "I'm the landlord, Brindley Butterbur. We often get elves passing through Bree, but they don't often stop off at the Pony!"

"Greetings," Elrond replied. "There are six of us – my wife and myself, my sons, two companions; and our horses. We wish to stay overnight, if you please."

Brindley Butterbur nodded. "Well now, I can find you three rooms; next to each other what's more!" He suddenly winked at Elladan and Elrohir. "I expect you two lads would rather be in a room of your own than with your ma and pa!"

Startled, they both nodded. "Yes, we would. Thank you, sir," Elladan replied in careful Westron.

"Right, then. You wait there, if you please, and I'll go and see what's what. If you left your horses out in the courtyard, I daresay my lad Dan will be seeing to them by now." Butterbur bustled off, and Elladan and Elrohir rounded on their father.

"Can we go and look around? Please!"

Elrond shook his head. "No, absolutely not. This is a strange town – you have no idea what may be here!"

"Exactly – that's why we want to explore! Please, father!" Elrohir begged. He turned to Celebrían, who had just come in. "Mother? Can we look around the town? Please?"

Elrond and Celebrían exchanged a long, silent look. Elrohir realised they were communicating wordlessly, just as he and Elladan did. But unlike him and Elladan, he had no idea what the outcome might be. They waited impatiently.

Elrond sighed. "Very well. But you must stay inside the town – do not set foot outside the gates!" The twins nodded their agreement. "And you must promise to stay together," he added unnecessarily.

"Yes, of course we will!" Elladan vowed.

"A horn is sounded half an hour before the gates close at dusk," Elrond continued. "If you are not back by then, you _must_ turn back as soon as you hear the horn. Do you understand?"

Elrohir nodded. "Yes. Thank you, father!"

Celebrían smiled. "Go on, then. Remember to be on your best behaviour!"

"We will. And we promise we won't swear," Elladan commented slyly.

Celebrían flushed a little, her eyes dancing. "Go, then! Before it gets dark!"

Elrohir hurriedly hauled his brother out of the door beneath the arch before their parents could change their minds. They stopped, and glanced up and down the road.

"Which way shall we go?"

**To Be Continued**

**Author's Notes:** This chapter is dedicated to Karen Wynn Fonstad, who died this week. I used her wonderful 'Atlas Of Middle Earth' a great deal for this story, for researching the layout and surroundings of Bree.

This story is set somewhere between 'Of Balrogs And Battles', and the opening chapters of 'With Friends Like These'. Elladan and Elrohir are in their early teens.


	2. Bree

**Author's Note**: Warning – I'm afraid there is a little animal cruelty in this chapter. Nothing extreme or graphic, but it's necessary for the plot.

**Chapter Two – Bree**

Elrond watched from the door of the inn as his sons paused briefly as they debated where to go first, then vanished. He beckoned to the guards in the stable yard. "Eilenach? I want you to keep an eye on them, please – discreetly. It is not that I do not trust them, but – well, this is a strange town. None of us know it that well."

Eilenach nodded, and strolled through the archway, casually heading in the direction the twins had taken. Reassured that Eilenach would do his best, Elrond returned to the inn, where Brindley Butterbur led him and Celebrían to their rooms. Butterbur bustled about, talking the whole time.

"Well now, I've put you and your lady in here, and the lads next door. The other two are at the end." He looked doubtfully at Elrond, then at the beds. "The beds may be a little small – you're all a fair bit taller than my regular guests! I hope they'll suit. Supper will be a meat stew – 'tis my wife's special dish. Will that suit you all? The lads have gone exploring, have they? Well now, you don't need to worry about them – they'll come to no harm. Twins, are they? I thought so. I reckon they can be a right handful at times! I remember what my two were like. They've grown into good lads now, though. Now, if you want anything, just call me, all right?" He hurried off again. He had given Elrond no time to reply to any of his questions, but it was clear that no comment was needed – or indeed expected.

Celebrían looked at him in amusement. "I feel quite breathless! Do you think he is always like that? He seems very kind and welcoming, though. Come, I want to see the other two rooms."

The three rooms they had been allocated were all very similar. They were a little small, and basically but comfortably furnished. There was a long, low window, two low beds – they were indeed a little short, but would be adequate for one night. There was a chest between the beds, a small table, and two hard chairs. A candle and tinderbox stood on the chest. Celebrían sat on one of the beds and smiled. "It all seems delightful. What a good idea of yours! Do you know, I have never been in an inn before?"

Elrond laughed. His wife was every bit as excited by the novelty of staying in a town of men as his sons were. "I will go and make sure that the horses are settled while you unpack," he said.

The horses were stabled in a stall with clean straw, and fresh hay and water. They seemed quite comfortable, and Elrond realised he need not worry about them. He was just leaving the stable again, when he saw Eilenach returning. The guard approached Ilmarin, sitting in the yard in the late afternoon sun, and joined him on the bench. Eilenach looked annoyed. "The little buggers gave me the slip!" he explained to his companion in disgust. Then he spotted Elrond, and amended his description. "My lord, I am afraid that your sons realised I was behind them, and – eluded me. I am sorry."

Elrond sighed. He had been afraid that would happen. "I think your first explanation said the same thing. I feared they might do that. Never mind – Butterbur assured me that they could come to no harm. They will be back soon – and what is more, they will apologise to you!" he added.

Yet as the afternoon drew into evening, his sons did not return. The horn sounded, signalling the closure of the town gates for the night – and his sons did not return. The inn's lamps were lit, shining out into the darkness – and still his sons did not return.

o-o-o

Elrohir glanced along the road as they left the inn. "Which way shall we go?" he asked.

Elladan peered left and right, considering. "We came that way," – he pointed along the route they had taken earlier – "and that way just leads to the other gate." He turned, and indicated a lane that led alongside the inn. "Up there!"

The lane rose steeply as it began to climb the hill, and they were quickly level with the upper floors of the inn, and then able to look down on the roofs. They came to a small crossroads, and halted again. Elrohir pointed to the right, Elladan to the left. "That way!" they both said simultaneously. Elladan shrugged, and nodded at the track that continued straight ahead, climbing again. "That way, then," he suggested.

Elrohir nodded his agreement. They slowed down as they passed several houses and small cottages, and studied them with great interest. Some had shuttered windows, others were flung open to the air. They tried to peer in through some of the open windows without being too obvious about it, curious to see what lay inside.

A little further on, they found a group of children playing, tossing a ball to and fro. As they saw the twins, the children stopped their game, the ball rolling at their feet, and clustered together, staring with round eyes. "Who are you?" a child who appeared the oldest demanded.

"I'm Elladan, and this is my brother, Elrohir," Elladan told them.

"Why do you look the same?" another child asked curiously.

Elrohir smiled. "We're twins. It means we were born at the same time," he explained.

"No we weren't. I was born first, then you, little brother," Elladan answered irritatingly. "You were born _after_ me."

"Shut up, El! You know what I mean!"

The Bree children began to laugh. Elrohir realised that he and Elladan had lapsed into Sindarin – the children could not understand their last few words, but the tone was unmistakeable. They could easily recognise an argument between brothers. He sighed. "Come on, El," he muttered. They wandered along several other lanes and alleyways, watching people as they came and went, and listening to the sounds around them – a baby crying, laughter, a tuneless voice singing, an argument from one house. Turning a corner, they came on a surprisingly familiar, homely scene – a woman unpegging washing from a line. Instead of running between two trees across a wide green lawn, the line ran from her house to a neighbour's across the alley.

The woman turned to face them in surprise. "Hello!" she greeted them. "Who might you be? I've not seen you in these parts before!"

"We are travelling from Imladris – Rivendell," Elladan explained.

Elrohir nodded. "We're staying at the inn tonight." She smiled at them as they passed her by.

As they rounded another corner Elladan suddenly pulled Elrohir into the shadow cast by an outbuilding. "El? What –" he began. Elladan clapped his hand over Elrohir's mouth.

"Shh!" he hissed. "Look back there. It's Eilenach. He's _following_ us!"

Elrohir looked carefully. Sure enough, the guard was climbing the lane behind them, trying hard to look unobtrusive. He gave a sudden laugh. "Come on, El – I don't want to be followed. We can easily get rid of him. Come on!" He darted down one of the narrow lanes, closely followed by Elladan, turned right, and ran along another. A short flight of steps led down to another track. At the end of the track they stopped, listening.

"I don't see him. _Or_ hear him," Elladan announced. "I think we did it!" He breathed a sigh of relief, and they studied their surroundings. They were in a wider, busier street with a few small shops; somewhere on the southern end of Bree-hill, judging by the low sun. The fragrant smell of bread and yeast came from one, and Elrohir's stomach rumbled.

"Are you hungry, young ones? Would you like some bread?" A man – the baker – stood at the door of the shop, a brush in his hand, and his apron covered in flour.

Elrohir shook his head, and spread his hands apologetically. "We _are_ hungry, but we have no money," he explained.

"Not even a copper or two? Oh, never mind. I'm about to shut for the evening, anyway. Here, you can have this – it will be stale by morning!" The baker threw a small loaf to them

Elladan caught it deftly. "Thank you, sir!" they chorused, gaining a chuckle from the man as he disappeared into his shop. Elrohir scowled at his brother. "Why did you say that? He was talking to _me_! We sound so – foolish – when we do that!"

Elladan shrugged, and tore the loaf in two, giving half to Elrohir. "Sorry, little brother. It just happens, you know it does!" Breaking off pieces of crust and eating as they went, they continued their exploration, meandering from street to street. "I must say, everyone here seems very friendly," Elladan continued. "The innkeeper; that woman we saw; the baker – they seem very pleasant. I like it here."

Elrohir nodded, then sighed. "That man – the baker – said he was going to close for the evening. I suppose we'd better go back soon." He stopped in mid-pace, looking about them. "El, do you know the way? The streets are such a maze – I'm not sure how we got here." As he spoke, a distant horn sounded, calling villagers in from the fields, and warning approaching travellers before the gates were shut for the night.

Elladan groaned. "That settles it – we'll have to go back. We'll find the way – it can't be far." He grinned suddenly. "I know!" We just need to keep going downhill, until we get to the road. Then we just follow that!" He sounded triumphant.

"Of course! It won't take long at all. Come on, El!"

They walked a little further along the street, then took a narrow lane that plunged steeply downward. Halfway down, Elladan stopped. "El? Do you hear that?" They listened, and the sound – the faint, plaintive whine of a dog – came again, this time ending on a yelp of pain.

"Something's wrong," Elrohir pointed out. "It sounds hurt."

The next sound was even more chilling. There was a harsh laugh, another shrill yelp, and a chorus of jeering shouts and yells. The dog whined again. The twins stared at one another. "Something _is_ wrong," Elrohir whispered. "It _is_ hurt – someone's doing it deliberately!"

"We're supposed to be going back now," Elladan pointed out half-heartedly. "We promised to be back at the inn before dark."

"El …" Elrohir began warningly.

"I know! I was just saying! Come on." They followed the sounds – another yelp, and more taunting laughter – towards the road, and turned left to the south gate – moving ever further away from the inn.

On the far side of the road, on flatter land inside the shelter of the protecting hedge, lay a large timber yard. The smell of freshly-cut wood and sawdust drifted on the evening air. A gate faced the road, shut now for the night. The twins scrambled over it, and rounded a stack of tree trucks ready for cutting. Three youths surrounded a dog, tied to a solid-looking log. As they watched, one of the youths aimed a kick at the cowering dog, and struck it with a long piece of wood, raising it above his head for another blow. "Bloody cur! I'll teach it to try and bite me!"

The twins raced forward. Elladan jumped and caught at the boy's upraised arm, while Elrohir ducked beneath him and stood in front of the dog, facing its tormentors. "Stop it!" he shouted furiously. "Leave him alone! What are you _doing_?"

The boy – who appeared to be the oldest of the three – stared at Elrohir incredulously. "Get out of the way, brat, or you're next!" he threatened. He tried to shake Elladan off, but to his obvious surprise, was unable to lower his arm. "Get off me, or you'll be troll bait!"

"No," said Elladan grimly. "Put that down. You're not going to hit that dog again!"

The youth nodded at his companions. "Bob, Harry – get him off."

One of the lads took a menacing step towards Elladan, but the other pulled at his arm. "Leave it. They're just kids. Leave the bloody dog, too – old Appleton will be after us if he finds out, anyway. Let's just go."

For a long moment, the boy armed with the plank stared hard at Elrohir. It was clear that he longed to deal the same treatment to both twins as he had to the dog. At last, however, he shrugged and dropped the wood with a thud. Only then did Elladan release his vice-like grip on the boy's arm. "I'll remember you – both of you," he threatened vaguely. "Bob, Harry; come on – let's go." The three youths turned and left the yard. There was a clatter as they climbed the gate, then silence.

Elrohir released a breath he had not even been aware of holding. "They've gone," he said with relief. "El, are you all right?"

Elladan nodded. "Yes, of course I am. They didn't touch me. What about you, little brother? And what about the dog?"

When they turned to the dog, it cowered away from them in fear, and as Elladan stretched his hand towards it, it flinched. "He's frightened of us," he said in disgust. "He _expects_ to be hit! What did they do to him?"

Elrohir moved slowly towards the dog, talking to it softly. As he drew near, it snarled and tried to snap at him. He stilled his hand, then began again, until he touched the dog's head gently. "Good boy. Good dog. Did they hurt you? Let me see."

The dog had one paw raised from the ground in pain, and hobbled on three legs as he backed away slightly. In the lengthening shadows they could see a dark patch of blood on his grimy, matted coat, and another on his leg.

Both Elladan and Elrohir had begun to learn simple medicine from Elrond, working at his side in the infirmary. They knew enough now to know that this was beyond them – they would need their father's aid if they were to help the dog. At last Elladan sat back on his heels. "We'll have to get him back to the inn. Father can look at him there." He sighed. "I wish Eilenach was around – we could do with his help." He looked up at the darkening sky, then back at the dog. "We should have been back ages ago. El, what are we going to do? He can't walk, and we can't carry him – I don't think he'd let us, anyway. We're going to have to get father to come here."

Elrohir nodded. He had come to the same conclusion. "I know. But El, I don't think we should leave the dog here alone. You go – I'll stay here and look after him."

"No!" Elladan protested automatically. "Elrohir, we promised to stay together."

"We promised to be back by dark, as well," Elrohir pointed out. "El, we _have_ to. We have to let father know what's happened. And I won't leave him here," he added stubbornly, resting his hand on the dog's head again. This time, it did not cringe away.

Elladan hesitated. "El – I don't want to leave you here on your own. If those boys come back …"

"They won't," Elrohir said, rather more confidently than he felt. "They're just bullies. Like Finglor at home. They just like to find someone smaller than them, who can't fight back. El, please go. You'll just have to explain. And hurry."

Elladan hesitated again. "All right," he said at last. "I'll go. But El – be careful." He backed away slowly, then turned and ran. Elrohir heard him scramble over the gate, then there was silence, and he was alone with the dog in the gathering gloom.

**To Be Continued**


	3. The Hands Of A Healer

**Chapter Three – The Hands Of A Healer**

Elrond and Celebrían stood beneath the archway, looking up and down the road again. It was dark now, but Elrond could see well enough. One or two customers were making their way to the inn for the evening, but there was still no sign of his sons. He turned as Eilenach and Ilmarin joined them.

"Are they still not back?" Ilmarin asked quietly. Elrond shook his head silently.

Eilenach sighed. "I blame myself – I should never have lost sight of them! This is my fault."

"Nay, not yours, Eilenach. It is theirs. How _could_ they be so irresponsible?" Elrond demanded angrily. "They gave me their word that they would be back by dusk! I thought that I could trust them!"

"Elrond …" Celebrían began gently.

"I'd not worry too much, if I were you." Brindley Butterbur came out of the inn door. "I expect they're still off looking around – maybe they've found a friend. They probably lost track of the time, and forgot – or pretended they forgot – when they was supposed to be back. Don't you worry – they'll turn up soon, as like as not!"

Elrond shook his head again, his anger vanishing. It was not anger at all, he knew – it was worry; and a sharp fear. "No," he said softly. "This is not like them. They can be reckless sometimes; acting first without considering the consequences – but they are not irresponsible. They would not forget a promise. Something is wrong; I know it."

Butterbur shrugged. "Ah, well. You know them best." He vanished back into the inn at a shout from within.

"My lord – let us look for them," Ilmarin began. "We can search the town; ask if any have seen them. I think that you and Lady Celebrían should stay here, if – _when_ – they return."

"Thank you, Ilmarin," Celebrían said quickly. "If you would do that … please, just _find_ them," she added pleadingly.

Ilmarin nodded. "Of course, my lady," he vowed.

Yet before the guards could depart on their search, the faint sound of light, running steps could be heard. A figure emerged from the darkness, panting, and skidded to a halt by the inn. It was Elladan. He cast a swift look over those waiting by the archway, and heaved a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank the Valar," he gasped.

"Elladan!" Elrond snapped, his anger returning in full force. "Where were you?" His hand shot out, gripping Elladan's arm tightly; shaking him. "You should have been back long ago!" he raged. "Did you forget? Did you …" he stopped, realising suddenly that Elladan was alone. Renewed fear gripped him. "Where is Elrohir? Why did you not stay together? Is he hurt? What happened?"

Elladan shook his head, took a deep breath, and swallowed. "He's all right. He's not hurt," he managed. "But … Father, we found a dog. Some boys were beating him. We stopped them, but he's hurt – the dog, I mean. We couldn't move him, so El stayed with him, and I came to get you. And I'm sorry – I _know_ we promised to stay together, and to be back before now, but we couldn't leave him, or ignore what they were doing. We had to do _something_. Will you come? Please?"

Elrond listened to the rushed explanation with growing concern. Of course his sons had not been wilful and irresponsible – he was wrong to think that they may have been. It was clear that they had thought they were acting with the very best of intentions, but there was one point Elladan seemed to have overlooked. "You left Elrohir with the dog? Elladan, what if these boys who attacked the dog return?"

"That's what he was afraid of," Elladan explained. "That's why he stayed, and wouldn't come with me. He was afraid of what they might do to the dog if they came back."

Elrond grew cold. What might these young thugs do to _Elrohir_ if they returned, and found him alone?

Elladan continued, sounding more and more miserable. "He said they wouldn't; that they were just bullies and we'd scared them off – but I know he thought they might. But he wouldn't _listen_ to me! You know what he's like."

It was true. Elrohir could be extremely stubborn at times; more so than his twin. If he had decided that the dog needed protection, nothing would induce him to leave it. His own safety would seem irrelevant. Elrond sighed. "Show me where they are. I just need to get – ah, thank you, my dear." While Elladan had been explaining their plight, Celebrían had collected his healing kit from their room. "Eilenach, come with me. Ilmarin, stay here with Celebrían. Celebrían – would you talk to the innkeeper, please? Ask him if he knows anything about who these boys might be."

She nodded. "Of course. And I will ask him about this poor dog, too. I suspect it will have to stay here with us tonight. Go – and hurry."

With Elladan guiding them, Elrond and Eilenach set off along the road at a run, heading towards the south gate. As they drew near the timber yard, a volley of barking could be heard.

"That's the dog!" Elladan pointed out rather needlessly.

"I rather gathered that," Elrond commented dryly. The barking changed to a low, ferocious growl, mixed now with shouts. Moving even more quickly now, they came to the yard and scaled the gate swiftly as there was another shout, more barks, and a cry of pain. "Elrohir? Elrohir! Wait there, I am coming!" Elrond shouted. It seemed that their worst fears had been realised, and the boys had indeed returned.

o-o-o

When Elladan's racing footsteps faded, Elrohir turned his attention to the dog. Talking to him softly the whole time, he let the creature sniff at his hand, and smiled when a tentative lick brushed his fingers. "Good boy. Good dog. You know that I'm not going to hurt you, don't you? Will you let me see where you're hurt?" Very carefully he ran his hands over the dog's head, across his chest and down his front legs. At one point the dog flinched and gave a very soft growl of warning. "Is it your paw? All right, I won't touch it again. Did they kick you? Don't worry, because my father's a healer. He usually helps elves, but I'm sure he can do dogs as well. Is there anywhere else?"

Elrohir continued his careful examination and found a cut on the dog's rump, presumably where the boy had struck him, but nothing more. He sat back with a sigh. How could anyone deliberately harm a living creature like this – for _fun_? It was something he simply could not comprehend. The elves of Imladris hunted, of course, as did he and Elladan – they all needed to eat – but the deer or rabbits they took were dispatched swiftly, and without pain. To inflict pain and suffering purposely … he shivered.

It was completely dark now, and the piles of wood and stacked timber looked strange and oddly threatening in the darkness. Elrohir glanced at the sky, wondering if Eärendil was visible yet, but the stars were veiled by low cloud. There was no solace there. He could see one or two lamp-lit windows in some of the houses, but the town, its people – and his family – seemed very far away. He suddenly felt very alone.

"I hope El will be all right," he told the dog. "It would be just like him to go the wrong way – he hasn't got a very good sense of direction. I'm better at things like that. But he can run faster. I wonder if he's got back to the inn yet?" He stopped, as a horrible thought occurred to him. Where had the boys gone? They had left the timber yard, but where had they gone after that? What if they had not gone far at all? What if they had lain in wait, and pounced on Elladan as he passed them? He and Elladan had learned a little unarmed combat in weapons training, but the three youths were all taller, more stoutly built, and looked much older than they were. And this time, it was the boys who would have the advantage of surprise. "I hope he's all right," he said again. "I don't want anything to happen to him."

He stroked the dog again reassuringly. His coat was a little tangled and matted, but he did not seem to be too thin, or to have been ill treated apart from the obvious. He was just old. "You need a name," Elrohir decided. "A good name. I read a story once about a dog called Huan – he was the bravest dog there ever was." He studied the dog, then shook his head. "But you don't look like Huan – and besides, that was a sad story. Huan died." He considered again, then smiled. "I know! 'Draug'. It means 'wolf'. Wolves aren't all bad – they can be brave and fierce. Shall I call you Draug?" The dog's long, bedraggled tail waved slightly, and thudded on the sawdust-littered ground.

"All right, Draug – let me look at you again." He peered at the cut on the dog's rump again, touching it gently. The dog flinched again and whined, but this time did not snap or growl. Elrohir smiled slightly – he at least seemed to be gaining the dog's trust a little. If only there was more he could do than merely sit here and wait. He sighed in frustration. "I wish _I_ could do something," he murmured. "I wish _I_ was a healer, like my father is. He's so clever – he can take the pain away just by touching you – or even by _not_ touching you. Like this."

He held one hand just above the deep gash, remembering with awe the first time he had seen Elrond at work, when he and Elladan had been much younger. Elladan had scalded his hand on boiling jam, burning himself badly. At their father's not-quite touch his tears had slowed and stopped_. 'It doesn't hurt so much now,'_ Elladan had whispered. A faint glow had seemed to surround their joined hands, and when at last Elrond let go of Elladan's hand, the angry red burn had faded considerably.

'_There,'_ Elrond smiled. _'Does that feel better? I cannot heal it completely, but does that help?'_

"He seemed to close his eyes, and concentrate, and think about it getting better," Elrohir remembered. "And it _did_." With one hand caressing the dog's head, and the other positioned just over his back, he closed his eyes. A sudden warmth flooded through him, and his outstretched fingers tingled slightly. With a gasp, he jerked backwards, pulling his hands away from Draug, and stared at him in disbelief. Draug returned his gaze placidly. "Did – did I just do something?" he asked in amazement. Running his hands over Draug's coat again, he searched for the deep cut – and found it. It was smaller, unmistakably half-healed, and appeared to be several days old, not freshly inflicted.

Elrohir swallowed, shaking slightly with awe at what he appeared to have done. He licked his lips. "Let's try again," he suggested. "Let me see your paw." He touched Draug's injured leg very lightly, and closed his eyes again, trying to recall what it was he had done. The warmth, and the tingling sensation came again, quite quickly, but this time he did not pull away. The heat flowed through him, and to his amazement and joy he could feel the injury beneath his hands slowly healing. The swelling subsided, the bleeding and bruising was re-absorbed, and the bone itself began to knit together. He could see none of this – but he could _feel_ it. It was difficult now; for he was immensely tired – the healing seemed to drain all his energy and strength – but he did not, _could_ not, stop. He did not know how to.

Suddenly he was brought back to his senses with a sharp blow and a yell. "Hey! You! Are you listening to me?" A finger prodded him harshly in the shoulder, and caught off balance, he tumbled backwards. A little dazed, he stared up at one of the boys he and Elladan had confronted earlier – Bob, or Harry, he thought. The boy turned towards the gate, and shouted again. "It's one of those kids – he's still here!" He moved away slightly, searching for one of his friends, and his voice dropped, suddenly turning very menacing. "He's on his own this time …"

Elrohir scrambled to his feet, still a little disorientated, and looked towards the gate. There seemed to be only two of the boys this time, for which he was thankful – he did not think he would have been able to ward off three at once – but the one missing was the one who had dissuaded his friends from continuing the original attack. With hands that shook a little – from fatigue, but also, he admitted to himself, from fear – he untied the rope that held Draug tethered to the heavy log. "You're free now, Draug," he whispered. "Run away – don't let them catch you again. Go on – run!" He had a sudden vivid mental image of Draug running all the way to the inn, and returning to the rescue with his father, the guards, and the innkeeper. Despite his apprehension, he smiled slightly at the wild picture.

Even in the midst of his anxiety, he felt a sharp exhilaration as Draug bounded lightly, and without the slightest trace of pain or stiffness, to the edge of the yard. He had _healed_ him. He, Elrohir, was a healer – just like his father.

Seizing a long, thick piece of wood, his heart pounding, Elrohir turned to face his assailants.

**To Be Continued**

**Author's Notes:** Parts of this chapter are based on one of the Deryni stories by Katharine Kurtz I read long ago; where a young boy destined to be a healer first discovers his power when he heals an injured cat.


	4. Confrontation

**Chapter Four – Confrontation**

Elrohir waved the piece of wood threateningly in front of him. "Stay back," he warned. "Keep away."

The boy facing him grinned menacingly, and called again. "Oi! Will! Come and see this!" Turning back to Elrohir he scowled. "Why are you still here? And where's the other one?" he demanded.

Elrohir felt sick with relief. If they were asking where Elladan was, they could not have caught him. He was safe. And perhaps by now he would have reached the inn, or even be on his way back with Elrond. How long had he been gone? Elrohir realised that he had completely lost track of time and his surroundings while he was healing the dog, and had not even been aware of the boys' approach. "He's gone to get my father. And the guards. And the innkeeper," he told the boy, rapidly embroidering on the reinforcements he hoped were on their way. "And I let the dog go – so you can't hurt him again."

By now the ringleader – Will – had joined them. "The dog? _He_ won't get far – I reckon I broke his leg!" He grinned triumphantly.

Elrohir shuddered at the glee in Will's voice. "Well, I won't let you harm him again," he repeated firmly. He brandished the wood again. "Now go away, or let me go."

"_You _won't let us harm him?" Will mocked. "Oh, for … Bob, just grab him, will you?" he ordered.

Elrohir twisted around, watching warily as Bob circled behind him, then spun back as he heard Will – whom he judged the greater threat – move closer. The swift movement left him suddenly dizzy, and he stumbled slightly, still a little off balance. "Bob! Now!" Will yelled.

Before Elrohir could turn again, or strike out in defence, his arms had been seized from behind, forcing him to drop the plank of wood; and twisted behind his back. "Got him!" Bob shouted exultantly. Sudden fierce barking broke out, and Draug appeared from nowhere, snarling and snapping at the boys. Elrohir struggled and kicked back sharply, the heel of his boot hitting Bob's shin, who gave a yell of pain. "You little swine! You're troll meat now!" He tightened his grip, and gave Elrohir's arms a vicious, painful twist.

Draug crouched close to the ground, and began a low, savage growling, his eyes fixed on all three. As Will approached slowly, Elrohir struggled desperately to free himself. He could see a real malice in the young thug's expression, and wondered for a sudden, terrified second if Will was armed with more than just spite – and just what he might do if he was. Elrohir kicked backwards again, harder this time, but was unable to defend himself further as Will stopped in front of him, drew back his fist, and punched him in the face.

Elrohir swallowed a cry of pain and blinked hard, determined not to give the boys the satisfaction of knowing they had hurt him. He had never in his life been hit like that; never struck before apart from occasional accidental blows during weapons training. He twisted and kicked again, even harder, and at last Bob released his grip, clutching at his leg. "He kicked me! The little swine _kicked_ me!" he cried indignantly. Draug, still growling, shot forward and bit him hard, then turned on Will as well, his teeth sinking into his calf tightly, snarling viciously the whole time.

Elrohir, now freed, bent quickly and snatched up the piece of wood, swinging it hard at Will, then back at Bob. To his great satisfaction, it struck both thugs squarely on the side of the head. Will gave a cry of pain and shook Draug off, aiming a kick at him. Draug darted out of the way, and snapped at Will's ankle. "Bloody dog! He's gone mad – he's going to kill us!" Will shouted. Draug growled and launched himself at the boys again, and the two youths turned and ran; Draug close behind them, barking furiously.

Shaking with fatigue and reaction, Elrohir slowly lowered the wood, swaying slightly. He could not quite believe that the boys had gone; that he and Draug had been victorious. He turned swiftly at another sound behind him, raising the plank again defensively. With a sigh of relief, he let it fell with a crash as he saw his father, Elladan, and Eilenach racing towards him. As Eilenach sped past in pursuit of the youths who had disappeared into a corner of the yard, Elrohir swayed again, and slowly crumpled to the ground.

o-o-o

"El!" Elladan cried in panic as his brother collapsed. Elrond stopped and dropped to his knees beside Elrohir and pulled him into his arms, Elladan kneeling next to him.

Elrond studied his son intently, cupping his face and feeling gently for his pulse – it was rapid; racing from exertion. It seemed that Elrohir had fainted, but why? He brushed his fingers lightly over a reddened, slightly swollen area on Elrohir's cheekbone, and clenched his fist, shaking with fury.

"Father? Is he all right?" a worried voice demanded.

Elrond looked up at Elladan, watching anxiously, and smiled reassuringly. "Yes. He fainted, that is all. He will be fine."

"I hope so. If they hurt him …" Elladan stopped and took a deep breath. "Why did he faint? What did they do to him? I _knew_ I shouldn't have left him alone! I know he was afraid that those horrible boys would come back!"

From the far side of the yard there was a crash, another volley of barking, and a further yell of pain. After a sudden clatter, running footsteps disappeared into the night. The dog returned first, bounding to Elrohir's side, his tongue hanging out and his tail waving madly. He sniffed Elrohir, then licked at his face. Elrohir stirred, raising one hand to brush at the wetness. "Get off, El," he mumbled. Elrond smiled suddenly at such a very normal reaction. Elrohir would indeed be fine.

As the dog licked him again, Elrohir's eyes opened, and he sat up suddenly, staring at his father and brother in surprise. One hand went out to fondle the dog's ear. "Good boy, Draug. Good boy! Thank you."

"Elrohir. Are you all right?" Elrond asked quietly, still holding his son tightly.

Elrohir nodded. "Yes. I'm fine – what happened?" He sounded a little puzzled.

Elrond relaxed his tight grip slightly. "You just fainted. Are you sure you are all right? Did they hurt you?"

Elrohir shook his head briefly. "No. I'm fine – really!" He looked up at Elrond. "I fainted? I _fainted_?" He sounded mortified. He pushed Elrond's arms away, and stood, then turned to Elladan, still hovering anxiously. "El, if you ever mention that, I'll never speak to you again!" he threatened.

Elladan shook his head. "I won't," he promised. "I'm just glad they didn't hurt you." He hesitated. "Are you really all right, El?"

Eilenach returned at that moment. "They climbed over the fence, and ran off into the town," he reported. "I watched to be sure they had gone, but let them go – there seemed little I could do if I caught them. I am sure the innkeeper will know who they are, anyway. He seems vague, but there is little that escapes him. Elrohir, are you well?"

As Elrohir nodded again, Elrond studied his face once more, tilting his chin up slightly. He touched the cheekbone gently, feeling the growing bruise. "Did one of them hit you?" he asked in cold fury. "Let me see."

Elrohir nodded. "Yes, but only once. And I couldn't hit him back, because the other one was holding my arms," he added regretfully. "But I got him later! Both of them. I hit them with the plank."

At Elrond's side, Elladan was simmering with rage at what the youths had done to his twin. "He hit you while he was holding you?" he asked incoherently. "One of them was holding you back, and the other one hit you? The cowards! The swine! If I see them again, I'll – I'll …" he trailed off, still seething.

Eilenach too looked as if he was regretting his decision not to pursue the two youths, and was sorry he had not dragged them both back to the timber yard for a little salutary justice. "Forgive me, my Lord – I should not have allowed them to go free. If I had realised what they had done to Elrohir, I would have brought the bullying scum to you!"

"No," Elrond reassured him. "You did the right thing, Eilenach – we have no jurisdiction here. Any punishment meted out to these young thugs will have to be done by the townspeople themselves."

"But what about Draug?" Elrohir demanded. "Did he bite them again?"

"The dog?" Eilenach asked. He grinned suddenly. "Yes, he bit one of them – the older one, I think – on the backside."

Elrohir gave a whoop of delight. "Good boy, Draug! Well done!"

Elrond stared down at the dog. "This is Draug? This is the dog you rescued? I thought you said he was so badly injured he could not walk, or be left alone? He seems lively enough now."

Elladan, startled, followed his gaze. "He _was_ hurt," he insisted blankly. "He _was_. He was limping, and I think – thought – his leg or paw was broken. I don't understand!"

Elrohir nodded. "I know," he said. "It was. That horrible boy had hit him!" He looked indignant, but then, to Elrond's surprise, his expression changed to one of utter awe. "But I healed him. I _healed_ him, El!"

"Don't be daft. You're not a healer. Only Father is," Elladan said dismissively.

Elrond raised a hand to hush him. "Elrohir?" he asked carefully "Are you sure?"

Elrohir nodded. "Yes," he said simply. "I did. I don't really know how, but I did. Just _look_ at him!" He paused, and added a little plaintively, "Can we go back now?"

As Elrond glanced at him, he saw how pale Elrohir looked, with shadows beneath his eyes, and a darkening bruise on his cheek. He recognised the tell-tale signs of exhaustion, and knew that Elrohir was at the end of his endurance. There was much that began to make sense. "Yes, of course," he agreed softly. "We can go now."

The four – five with Draug – made their way back along the road to the inn. Draug padded at Elrohir's side, never moving far from him. Elrohir himself was quiet now, saying little, and walked between Elrond and Elladan. As they approached the Prancing Pony, lights shone out into the night like a beacon, drawing them in to where Celebrían and Ilmarin stood waiting in the shadows of the archway.

o-o-o

In a small side room of the inn, Brindley Butterbur bustled in and out, bearing plates and goblets, a flask of wine and a jug of water, cutlery and candles. "Well now!" he exclaimed. "I never did! I always knew those two were no good, but never did I think they'd do this! That Bob's just plain daft, and will do anything that there Will says. Now _he's_ a real nasty piece of work! His ma's a wh – " he stopped suddenly, looking at the twins, seated by the fire. "Well now," he amended. "His ma _entertains_ some of the travellers who pass through Bree, you might say – but not in my establishment, though! And of course no one knows who his Da might be."

"He doesn't know his father?" Elladan asked. "That's sad. Is he dead?"

"Aye, maybe." Butterbur hurried off again, returning with yet more dishes, and finally producing a dish of his wife's stew, and a blackberry tart. "There now! There's more if needs be, and good company over in the bar, if you've a wish to join us now or later. Enjoy your meal!" He disappeared again, and the door swung closed behind him.

Elrond turned to Eilenach and Ilmarin. "You have both served well today – far above and beyond any duty I may have placed on you. You may join us or not, as you choose."

Eilenach glanced briefly at Ilmarin, then inclined his head. "Thank you, my Lord. I will join you, if I may. This is a tale I would like to hear!" As Ilmarin nodded his agreement, they all sat the small table. It was a little cramped, and before long Elladan took his plate to a chair by the fire. Elrohir joined him, sitting on the floor next to Draug, who was stretched out by the fire, sound asleep. As they ate, he slowly began his tale.

"I didn't know I could do that – I was just thinking about what you do, Ada, and wishing I could as well. Then it just _happened_! The first time seemed so easy; but his leg was still broken, so I tried again." Elrohir paused, remembering. "But it was more difficult; there was more to do, so I just tried harder. But then … I couldn't seem to stop. I knew I should, because I could feel that Draug was healed, but I didn't know how to. I felt so …" he groped for a word. "Strange," he concluded.

Elrond nodded. This part of the tale was familiar from some other young healers, new to their powers and uncertain in their control. "So how _did_ you stop?" he asked.

Elrohir shrugged. "I didn't, not really – it was that boy, Bob. He came up to me – I think he may have been saying something – and pushed me when I didn't answer." He looked up. "I hadn't heard them coming, or seen them, or anything. They were just _there_!" He swallowed. "It scared me, that I didn't know. And then … I _tried_ to fight them; not to let them get me – but I was so tired. If it hadn't been for Draug – I don't think I could have done it."

"But the worst thing is," Elladan added, "Is that it was our fault. If we hadn't run off from Eilenach, if we'd come back when you said – and especially if we'd stayed together, like we promised – it wouldn't have happened. And Elrohir wouldn't have been attacked by those louts." He sounded thoroughly miserable.

Elrond regarded his sons for a moment. "I want you to tell me two things," he said at last. "Why did you leave Eilenach? And why did you disobey me, and break a promise?"

Elladan bit his lip, and glanced at Elrohir. "We thought you didn't trust us," he said at last. "We didn't want to be _followed_ like that. It was as if he was spying on us. It wasn't _you_, Eilenach, really it wasn't! And we didn't mean to get you into trouble." He sighed. "But when we heard the dog – we had to do something. It was getting dark, and we'd just heard the horn, so we knew we should go back. We knew it meant breaking a promise, and we knew how angry you'd be. We knew it would mean we'd probably never be allowed to do anything else on our own for the rest of the trip. But we had to do _something_," he repeated. "I'm sorry. We let you down. And El was hurt because of it," he ended despondently.

Silence hung in the little room, broken only by the crackle of the fire, and Draug's snoring. "I am not disappointed," Elrond told them at last. "You knew what you were doing; you considered what the results of your actions would be. Yet you were prepared to face the consequences because you believed in what you were doing. I am not disappointed – you did the right thing."

Elladan looked stunned. "You're not cross?" he asked, seeking confirmation. "Even though we broke a promise?"

"We are not cross," Celebrían confirmed. "We will talk to you in the morning about promises, and your father will talk to you about healing. There is much that you both need to learn. Now, off to bed – today has been a long day." Elrond looked at her with gratitude. She had phrased very succinctly the most pressing matters of concern – but it could all wait until the morning.

Elladan nodded, and yawned. "All right," he agreed without protest. "We'll go to bed. Come on El." He looked down at his brother. Elrohir leaned against the hearth, one hand still resting on Draug. He was fast asleep. "El! Wake up and go to bed!" he cried, prodding Elrohir with his foot.

"Leave him," Elrond said, bending and lifting Elrohir in his arms. "Leave him. You have just seen a demonstration – and Elrohir has found out the hard way – just how exhausting and draining healing can be. Let him sleep."

In the twins' room, Elrond laid Elrohir on his bed, and loosened the neck of his tunic. He removed his belt and boots, then drew a cover over his son. He smiled. It brought back sweet memories of putting the twins to bed when they had been much younger. He kissed Elrohir's brow, and also Elladan's.

"Goodnight. You both did well today. If you had ignored what you heard, if you had abandoned the dog – Draug – to his plight, merely to return in good time and avoid trouble for yourselves – I think you would have felt extremely guilty, and never forgiven yourselves. I am very proud of you both. Sleep well – there will be much to do in the morning."

He closed the door, and returned to the parlour. There was still much to discuss.

**To Be Continued**


	5. Discussions And Decisions

**Chapter Five – Discussions and Decisions**

When he left the twins, Elrond returned to the parlour, closing the door behind him. Celebrían and the two guards had moved from the table to the chairs set around the fireplace. He squeezed into Celebrían's chair with her and smiled. "They are both asleep," he announced. "It has been a long and tiring day."

"I think that your sons have both coped well with events – they are not used to such casual cruelty and viciousness," Ilmarin said. "You must be proud that Elrohir has inherited your healing skills, although I suppose it comes as no great surprise that at least one of them has."

Elrond hesitated. "Not a great surprise, no," he admitted. He paused, wondering whether to explain the source of Elrohir's power, but decided against it. "They take after both of us, in many ways," he concluded at last.

Later that night, in the privacy of their room, Celebrían turned to him. "We should tell them," she announced. "We should tell them what happened when Elrohir was born."

"The guards?" Elrond asked in surprise. "You think it necessary? Why?"

"Not the guards – our sons!" Celebrían exclaimed in exasperation. "They deserve to know, and it would explain everything. Elladan is puzzled why Elrohir can do this, and he cannot."

"But – " Elrond protested, then fell silent. _Should_ he tell them? Tell them that Elrohir – born mere minutes after his brother – had effectively died at birth; stillborn, the umbilical cord twisted tightly around his neck? Elrond, frantic with fear, desperate to save his son, had done the only thing he could think of. He had poured healing energy into the tiny body, flooding Elrohir with it – and it had _worked_. Elrohir had breathed, and cried, and lived. It had seemed like a miracle. The twins were oblivious to this, and no-one now would ever guess what had happened. Yet Elrond had often wondered if being the receptacle for so much power, so young, would have any lasting effect on Elrohir. There had been no sign that it had – until now.

"No," he said at last. "I think not. They are already unsettled by the boys' attack and Elrohir's healing. To learn this; now – they do not need to know it. They already know that they have different strengths and weaknesses, that they have different characteristics. This is just one more difference. And Elrohir – he is very young to discover his skills. That alone is enough for now."

Celebrían gazed at him, sceptical. "If you are sure," she admitted uncertainly. "I will leave the decision to you, as it concerns healing matters – but I think we should tell them. I do not like secrets. And the longer we leave it, the greater the shock will be when they _do_ find out – which they will, one day. But the decision is yours."

Elrond hesitated again. He, too, did not like secrets. Yet some things were perhaps best left unsaid. "One day," he hedged. "When the time seems right, I will tell them – _we_ will tell them. One day – but not now."

She stared at him for a moment longer, then nodded. "Very well. One day."

o-o-o

Elrohir awoke slowly. He was sprawled face down on his bed, gazing over the edge of the mattress at a slightly worn, threadbare rug covering scrubbed floorboards. The view was totally unfamiliar. He blinked and turned his head, looking at the rest of the room. Of course – they were at the inn at Bree; yet he had no recollection of going to bed the night before. An odd weight rested on his feet, and he twisted around with a smile as he pulled his feet free and sat up. "Draug! Good morning."

Draug lay across the end of the bed. He opened one eye, thumped his tail briefly, and placidly went back to sleep. Elrohir stared at the dog, thinking over events of the previous evening – and especially the startling discovery that he had inherited his father's powers of healing. He paused as he savoured the joy and wonder of that moment again. The euphoria of the discovery though, was somewhat dampened by the _double_ humiliation of not only fainting, but also the fact that he had clearly been put to bed by one or other of his parents the night before – something that had not happened since he had been very young. The last thing he remembered was sitting by the fire in the little dining room, feeling overwhelmingly tired as the conversation around him had gradually faded away into silence.

Elrohir rubbed Draug's ears as he slid out of bed. He realised he was still wearing the same clothes from the day before – stained and crumpled now – and stripped off his tunic, rummaging for a clean one in his pack. There was no sign of Elladan; and his bed was empty, the coverlet pulled straight rather haphazardly. His brother's absence was odd – normally, if either of them slept late, they risked a rude awakening from the other. He wondered what threats had been used, and just why Elladan had decided to leave him undisturbed.

A large earthenware pitcher and basin stood on the table. Elrohir poured a little water into the basin and splashed it over his face. It felt rather sore, and he prodded his cheekbone cautiously with a tentative finger. It was tender and slightly swollen, and he wondered curiously what the bruise looked like. He had no mirror, and there was not one in the room, but he knew his mother carried a small looking-glass in her bags.

He brushed off his trousers and pulled on the clean tunic. His belt and boots lay on and beneath the chair. He left the boots, and in stockinged feet crossed to the door and pulled it open, peering out into the hallway. His parents' room lay next door, and he knocked briefly on the door, then pushed it open. The room was empty, their open packs on one of the two beds. The mirror lay on a small chest.

Elrohir peered at his reflection. A dark bruise marked his cheek, just missing his eye. He blinked. The bruise looked rather spectacular, and gave him an odd appearance. He grinned suddenly. For once, no one would have any trouble telling him and Elladan apart.

He wondered again where Elladan – and his parents – were. He went back to the door, and listened. A clatter of pots and pans, and a savoury smell of cooking came from his left, and the main public rooms of the inn lay on the right. As he stepped out into the hall, Brindley Butterbur appeared from a doorway that led out into the yard. He greeted Elrohir jovially. "Well now, how are you, young master? Awake at last? Good afternoon!"

"Afternoon?" Elrohir echoed in horror. "Is it really afternoon?" He could tell that he had slept for a long time, but had not realised it was quite _that_ long.

Butterbur chuckled. "No, not really. I were joking. 'Tis late, though – past mid-morning, at any rate. I've just been to talk to a few folk – about what we're to do with them louts. Now, are you looking for your Ma and Pa? They're through here." He led the way into the main bar, empty of customers now apart from Elrond, Celebrían and Elladan sitting at one end with Eilenach and Ilmarin, finishing a late breakfast.

Elrohir crossed to the table, brushing off their concerns. "Good morning. Yes, of course I'm all right. Mother, please don't _fuss_ so! No, I don't have a headache. El, did you leave anything for me? I'm starving!" He began to eat hungrily, as Butterbur explained his errand.

"We don't have no town council as such – there's never really been no need for one. If anything needs doing, the families who's been here longest decide what to do. Butterburs have run the Pony for generations!" he added proudly. "Mind you, in my great-grandpa's day it nearly all ended different – he only had daughters. So when the youngest married, her man took _her_ name instead, and in time took over running the Pony. That were my grandfather. Anyroad, one way or another, I reckon there'll still be Butterburs here for a good few years to come!"

Elrond coughed. "The meeting?" he asked politely. Elrohir glanced at Elladan, and they grinned. Their father was an expert at bringing a long-winded explanation to the point.

"Oh. Ah. Well now, I met with the others – the saddler, the baker, the blacksmith and old Dan Heathertoes – and told them what you'd told me."

"We met the baker," Elladan interrupted. "He seemed nice. He gave us a loaf of bread."

"Aye, he said it must've been you he'd seen. 'Nice lads,' he said. 'Very polite. Not the sort to cause trouble, neither.' Anyways, we talked about what to do. And Matt Rushlight, the blacksmith, and old Appleton – he owns the wood yard, and that there dog – are coming down here to talk to you. We'll talk to that Will, and Bob too if we can find 'em." Butterbur paused for breath. "Tis funny – there's usually three of 'em."

Elrohir swallowed his mouthful. "There _were_ three of them at first," he explained. "But the one called Harry – he told the others to stop, and to leave us alone. Then they left. It was the other two that came back later."

Butterbur nodded. "Ah, did he? Well now, Harry always did have more sense than the other two put together. But don't tell me no more now, save it for when the others gets here. This afternoon."

Elrohir, still picking at the remnants of breakfast, glanced up. "This afternoon?" He looked at his parents. "Does that mean we'll be staying here tonight as well?"

Elrond nodded. "Yes. Do you mind? I had intended for us to leave early this morning, but … there are things that need to be dealt with."

Elrohir glanced at Elladan again, and nodded enthusiastically. "Of course we don't mind!" Despite all that had happened, Bree was still a fascinating place.

"Good," Elrond nodded. "Elrohir, if you have _quite_ finished, I want to talk to you both. We can walk in the town, if you wish."

"Can Draug come as well?"

Elrond hesitated. "Elrohir …"

"I know we can't keep him," Elrohir interrupted curtly. "I wish we could, but he belongs here." He sighed. "And we can't really take him all the way to Mithlond, can we? It would be too far for him, anyway." He got up from the table abruptly. "Come on, El. Let's get him."

Back in their room, Draug still lay on the bed, but he leapt up when Elladan and Elrohir entered, his tail wagging. Elrohir sat on the vacated bed and pulled on one boot in silence, then looked up at his brother. "El, why didn't you wake me up? It's late – nearly afternoon!"

Elladan grinned. "I was going to – but they wouldn't let me! I had to promise to leave you alone. Mother said you 'obviously needed to rest'!"

Elrohir scowled. "Shut up, El – I don't need to rest! You make me sound like an invalid! There's nothing wrong with me." He turned to Draug and stroked him. "Or Draug. He really is all right, isn't he?" he said in wonder, still not quite able to believe it.

"Yes, he is. El – you _healed_ him." Elladan regarded his brother with a rare, undisguised admiration. "Tell me again what you did. What did it feel like?"

"Well," Elrohir began rather hesitantly. "To begin with, I was just trying to see how bad the cut on his back was; and looking at his leg. I could see how much it hurt him, and I just wished there was something _I_ could do while I was waiting for you to come back with father. I was thinking about what _he _does when he heals someone. And then … I did it." He shrugged. "It felt – like it did when father healed my arm when I broke it. Warm, and – and tingly. It was the same, and at the same time it felt quite different – because _I_ was doing it, not having done to me." He sighed in frustration. "I wish I could explain it better. I don't think I'm making much sense."

Elladan grinned. "I'm used to that, little brother. You never make much sense!"

"Shut up, El!" Elrohir retorted automatically. "Look, perhaps it will be easier if I try to show you what I did. I'll describe it better then. Give me your hand." He reached out to grab his brother's hand, to demonstrate how he had healed Draug. To his surprise, Elladan snatched his hand back.

"No, don't!"

Elrohir stared at his twin, and waited.

"Last night … you fainted," Elladan explained. "It scared me. I didn't know what was wrong. Don't do it."

Pulling on the second boot, Elrohir did not immediately reply. Elladan's comment struck too close to his own fears; fears he did not really want to confront. But then, because it was Elladan, he sighed. "That's what worries me," he confessed eventually. "I _fainted_. What use am I going to be to father? How can I help him? What good is a healer who faints every time?"

"Well – perhaps it won't be like that. Perhaps it's just because it was the first time. It must have been a shock! El, you have to talk to father about this. He'll know," Elladan said reassuringly. "Perhaps it happens to lots of healers. Perhaps it happened to _him_."

"I suppose so," Elrohir was still unsure. "Anyway, come on – they'll be waiting for us."

With Draug at Elrohir's heels, they went out into the courtyard where Elrond and Celebrían waited, and set off along the road that skirted the little town. For a while they simply walked, still enjoying the sights and sounds, and the novelty of a place so very different from Imladris.

Elrond turned to his sons. "I need to talk to you both," he told them. "About healing – and about promises. I am immensely proud of the way you handled matters last night – you both showed maturity and sense in deciding that the situation you found yourselves in overrode your promise to return by dusk. However, that does _not_ mean that such promises can be lightly ignored!" he added sternly. "A promise is binding – your honour depends on it. It should only be disregarded in a dire emergency." He gazed at Elladan and Elrohir piercingly for a moment as the warning sank in.

"I know that," Elladan said quietly. "We both do. It was just – " he paused, searching for the right words.

"It was just that we thought it _was_ an emergency," Elrohir added. "And it was. I think they might have really hurt Draug – even killed him – if we hadn't stopped them." He shivered slightly. "I don't understand why people can do that. There was no reason – they were being cruel just because they could be."

Elladan nodded. "I know. But most of the people here aren't like that."

"No. Remember that. And look at our own people – we too have yielded to greed and cruelty at times." Elrond's face grew sad at some distant memory. "Some promises and oaths should never be made at all."

"Unexpected good can come of things as well," Celebrían interrupted firmly. "Enough of this melancholy! Always remember, compassion – even love – can be found in the most unlikely of places." She smiled at Elrond. "You, of all people, should know that. Now come. It is time we returned, to see what is to be done with these boys."

Elrohir stopped, Draug nudging at his knees. "We were going to talk about healing as well," he reminded his father.

"That can wait until later. There will be much to discuss there as well – but we will talk of it later today."

As they returned to the inn, Draug gave a sudden bark and bounded ahead towards a man just passing beneath the archway. He stopped, and looked down at the dog. "Garm!" he cried in delight.

Draug – or rather Garm – bounded and pranced all around the man, his tail waving madly, whining with excitement. The man – surely Appleton, the wood merchant – bent down, rubbing the dog's ears, patting him, clearly equally pleased. "_Garm_," he said again. "When I got down to the yard, and you weren't there, I wondered what had happened to you, really I did!"

By this time the others had caught up. Appleton straightened, and nodded in greeting. "Old Brindley told me that those two louts had been up to no good again. He said you rescued old Garm here and looked after him. That were good of you. Thank you."

"That's all right," Elrohir replied. He looked down at Draug – _Garm_, he reminded himself. "I'm glad you've got him back," he said awkwardly. Inwardly, his heart sank. Despite his words earlier, he had still entertained a vain hope that Draug could – somehow – stay with him, and travel with them to Mithlond. But now that Draug – no, _Garm_ – had been reunited with his owner, there was no possibility of that. "I can tell he's pleased to see you," he added bravely.

"I wish I'd never left him there now," Appleton explained. "But twice I caught them lads trying to set fires in my yard. I chased 'em off both times, but started leaving Garm there at night to guard the place. I know he's old, and a bit slow, but thought he'd scare them off!" He paused, gazing at Garm's antics in bewilderment.. "He _were_ old and slow, anyroad. Just look at him now! He's like a pup again. I don't understand it, that I don't!" He scratched his head. "Ah well, as long as he's safe. And now we'll see what we're to do with them two!" He pushed open the door, and led the way into the inn. Elrohir followed him, ignoring Elladan's sidelong looks of awe.

Butterbur showed them into a small side room, where four people already waited in uncomfortable silence – the two boys, a woman, and a short, powerfully built man. "This here's Jed Rushlight, the blacksmith," Butterbur announced. The three men sat in chairs facing the rest of the room, and Elrond, Celebrían and the twins sat on a bench. "You two stand there!" Butterbur ordered the youths, pointing to a spot in front of him.

"Now then," began Rushlight. He had strong, muscular arms, and a red-flushed face from working in the heat of the forges. "First, I wants to know what you two have got to say for yourselves!" He indicated the two lads standing sullenly in front of him. Bob stared blankly back, while Will shuffled his feet, scowling. "Well?" When there was still no response, he sighed. "I spoke to your ma, young Will. She said she weren't coming down – said it weren't no business of hers."

Will scowled at his feet again. "Aye," he muttered. "She would. She don't care." He fell into another sullen, morose silence.

Rushlight sighed, and tried again. "Bob, your ma agreed to come and talk to us." He indicated a faded, pale-looking woman perched on one of the benches. At his signal, she stood, wringing her hands.

"He's a good boy really, sir," she began nervously. "But he's a handful. He's easily led. And once he made friends with that Will – him _and_ his no-good mother!" she added viciously, "well, he just went along with things. It's not my Bob's fault, really it's not."

Appleton snorted. "Hmmh! It never is, is it?" he muttered to himself. "Now, are you two going to tell me what you was doing in my yard?" he asked aloud.

"Nothing," Bob muttered.

"Nothing, is it? And what about my dog; my Garm? What was you doing to him?" Appleton continued.

"Nothing."

Butterbur snorted. "I've had enough of this. Will one of you two," – he pointed at the twins – "tell us?"

Elladan stood, a little nervously. "We'd been exploring. We were on our way back here when we heard a dog yelping," he began. He explained events as briefly and clearly as he could, and ended: "We thought they'd gone. I came back to get help, and left my brother there with the dog."

Elrohir also stood, and nodded. "I tried to help Draug, and heal him – Draug was what I called him," he added. "But they came back, and surprised me." He flushed, not wanting to admit how easily he had been overcome.

"Right then," Rushlight interrupted. He stared in turn at the two youths, both stockily built; and Elrohir, slighter and more slender, though he was of much the same height. "So you two," – he glared at Will and Bob – "came back, and attacked this young lad, who was on his own? Is that it?"

"What if we did?" Bob demanded. "He kicked me! Look – I've got bruises!" He pulled up a trouser leg to reveal a grimy shin. Elrohir noted with deep satisfaction several dark bruises showing through the dirt.

"And this boy has a bruised face and it's lucky he don't have a black eye!" Rushlight retorted. "And I can guess how _that_ happened. Now then, we've had enough of you two and your bullying ways. It's time it stopped!" He turned to Butterbur and Appleton. "What are we to do with them?" he questioned.

There was silence for a while. "They need something to do, so they'm not hanging round causing trouble," Butterbur announced. "But what? We've the lockups, what we use for the night for drunks who're being a nuisance – but that won't work. So what _do_ we do?"

There was a longer silence. Elrohir waited curiously to see what would be decided. He had felt a sudden unexpected sympathy for the boys, especially Will, with his mother who did not care. He glanced across at Celebrían and gave her a small smile, profoundly grateful that he had parents who loved him – something he had never questioned in all his life, and never would.

Rushlight stirred, and gazed at Will consideringly. "I've known for some time I need an apprentice," he said at last. "But do I want _you_? It'll be hard work, and you won't get no wages until you prove to me you deserve some. But if you work hard, and keep yourself out of trouble, you can train as a blacksmith. You'll have to sleep at the forge, too – I needs someone to keep the fires banked overnight. Will your ma agree to that?"

Will looked up, a gleam of interest and hope in his eyes for the first time. "She'll be glad to have me out the way," he stated bluntly. Then his customary sullenness reappeared, and he shrugged. "I suppose I'll do it."

Bob's mother sprang to her feet. "You won't do that to my Bob, will you?" she pleaded anxiously, her hands twisting in the fabric of her skirt. "You won't make him leave me, and do a horrible, dirty, dangerous job like that? I'll keep him out of trouble sir, really I will!"

"Aye," Butterbur muttered quietly. "Like you already have! I tell you what," he said more loudly, "He can wash pots in the kitchens here. He can go home at night, and _you_ can make sure he behaves himself!"

"Oh yes, sir, thank you sir!"

Bob gave a snort of disgust. "Shut up, ma, will you? Washing pots? Why should I?"

"It's either that, or mucking out my stables!" Butterbur threatened darkly.

Once the deliberations were over, the two boys were dismissed, with orders to report for duty the next morning. Appleton, to Elrohir's profound regret, took his dog with him as he left. "Be sure to come past and say goodbye afore you leave," he urged. "I'm right thankful for what you did for old Garm!"

Elrohir nodded. "We will," he promised. "I'll miss him – I'm just glad we were able to help, and stop those boys from hurting him any more." He rubbed Garm's ears. "Goodbye, Draug," he whispered. "I'll come and say goodbye before we leave!"

They watched as Appleton and Garm made their way along the street to the other end of the town, Garm gambolling in joyous circles around Appleton. "I still don't like those boys – they were being cruel just because they could be – but now I feel sorry for them as well. And there's something about Will's mother – no-one likes her, but no-one will really _talk_ about her. And she couldn't even be bothered to come today!"

Butterbur bustled past on his way back to his customers. "No. I reckon Will'll be better off without her. Maybe he'll turn over a new leaf now – well, we'll see, anyroad."

Outside in the courtyard, the afternoon sun still shone brightly. Elrond sat on a bench in one corner, while the twins perched on a low wall bordering the road.

"I have long hoped – expected – that you would inherit my healing skills," Elrond told them. "Yet I did not expect it until you were more adult. You are young for this, Elrohir – though it is not unprecedented. There have been other healers who first discovered their skills unexpectedly like that."

Elrohir gazed at his father curiously. "Is that how _you_ knew you were a healer?" he asked with interest. "How old were you?"

"I was older that you are, and it was nothing so dramatic," Elrond began reminiscently. "I gradually found myself being able to ease small hurts, to soothe aches and pains and headaches. Maglor, and later Gil-Galad, saw to it that I received training. But the first time I saw battle – or rather the aftermath – was a different matter. There was so much pain and suffering; so much to _do_. I did what I could, along with the other healers, but …" he paused, and smiled at Elrohir. "I do not quite recall what happened next, but awoke the next morning in an out-of-the-way corner of the infirmary, where no-one would trip over me." He smiled again. "You are not the first healer to collapse from the strain – and you will not be the last. There is no shame in it."

Elladan gave his brother a superior look. "I told you so!" he said triumphantly.

Elrond nodded. "I guessed it would be worrying you. But Elrohir, if you pursue this path, it will probably not be the only time. You will be taught to control this gift; to judge when to use it, and how much; you will learn to retain awareness of your surroundings while you work – but in times of battle, or disaster, or sickness in the world of men; times when you _know_ you should stop, but that to do so will lead to yet more deaths – it will undoubtedly happen again."

Surprisingly, rather than being alarmed at this prediction, Elrohir felt oddly reassured. His father was so matter-of-fact about it all. "_However_," Elrond continued, now deadly serious, "until you are trained in this – which will not be for many years yet – you are _not_ to attempt healing again. You may have the gift of healing, but you do not yet have the knowledge or proficiency to use it accurately. It can be dangerous – as you have discovered. And worse – there are times when no matter what you do, a patient will die. I do not want you to face that sorrow and guilt – not yet. When you are older, you will be trained – you _and_ Elladan. Until then, you do nothing."

"I promise," Elrohir said solemnly.

Elladan nodded his agreement. "And me," he added.

"Good." Elrond regarded them both. "And that is _not_ a negotiable promise!"

Elrohir nodded again. "I know. I don't want to feel like that again – it was … odd. I want to know what I'm doing. I didn't, not with Draug. But I want to learn."

"And you shall. You both will. For now, you will continue to learn basic medicine; herblore and the treatment of wounds. That is the basis of all healing. Later, you will learn to use your other skills." Elrond smiled, and brushed his hand lightly over Elrohir's head. "You did well in a difficult situation – I am proud of you. But let that be enough for now."

He stood, brushing lichen from the bench off his tunic. "Now, off to your room. Pack and be ready to go – we leave at dawn tomorrow. Mithlond is still a long way away – our journey has just begun."

**To Be Continued**


	6. Return To Bree

**Chapter Six – Return To Bree**

The journey to Mithlond was over. It had been a journey through gentle, fertile lands bordering the river Baranduin – "Good land for farming," Ilmarin had declared. His family farmed land south of Imladris. "There could be a big settlement here one day - a whole country!" They travelled through the high, remote hills of the Emyn Beraid – where once, long before, a seeing stone had been set in one of three tall towers. The towers and the stone still remained, and still looked westward to the undying lands. Far in the distance they had seen the long, narrow firth that sheltered Mithlond – and beyond that lay the sea.

The visit to Mithlond had passed in a whirl of new faces and new experiences, but at last it had been time to return. They were nearly halfway home now, and would return to Bree in a few days.

o-o-o

Elrohir wandered away from their campsite to investigate a small outcrop of rock overhanging the stream. He studied it carefully, then peered even more closely. There was the imprint of a small, coiled shape – rather like a snail – embedded in the stone. He stared at it again, then began, very carefully, to dig at it with the blade of his dagger. Elladan appeared at his side, attracted by his rapt attention.

"What's that?" he asked curiously.

"A stone. It's like a snail, but it's not," Elrohir replied absently. He kept a wide margin around the imprint of the snail, not wanting to damage it.

Elladan shrugged. "Do you think you should be using your dagger like that? You'll break it."

"No I won't. I'll be careful." Finally, Elrohir had managed to free most of the stone, and dug his knife at it again one last time to prise it out. The snail stone suddenly broke free, and flew into the air as Elladan caught it deftly.

Then, with a sharp snap, the point of the dagger broke off, and Elrohir's knife slipped, gouging a deep cut across his palm. He jerked his hand back with a curse. "Ai! Balrog's balls, that hurt!" He clapped his uninjured hand across his mouth, and looked around guiltily. Ilmarin had overheard, and grinned at them, wagging his finger sternly. The long weeks of travelling together had developed an informality between them all, and the guards often teased the twins, and joked with Elrond and Celebrían.

"What have you done now, youngling?" Ilmarin asked resignedly. Cautiously, Elrohir opened his hand and uncoiled his fingers carefully. Crimson blossomed across his palm as the deep gash was pulled and stretched, and he clenched his hand again quickly, slowing the flow of blood.

"El, you idiot! Let me have a look." Elladan took his hand and prised the fingers open a little. "That looks deep. You'll have to get Father to see to it."

Elrohir sighed. "Yes, I know." He bent and picked up the dagger which he had dropped, and sighed again. "It's broken."

Elladan said nothing, but gave his brother a most expressive look.

"Shut up, El!" Elrohir snapped.

"I didn't say anything!" Elladan protested.

"You didn't need to. Come on."

They returned to the camp, and sought out Elrond, sitting by the fire with Celebrían. With a glance at Elrohir's bloodstained hand, Elrond rose and found his pack of medical supplies.

"What have you done now, elfling?" he asked quietly. "How did this happen? Let me see it."

Elrohir extended his hand for examination. "My knife slipped," he said shortly. The initial numbness had worn off, and the cut throbbed and stung. It was still bleeding, and Elrond dabbed the blood away gently. As his father held his hand, Elrohir felt a warm prickling sensation, and the pain eased, and the flow of blood slowed.

"Could – would I have been able to do that?" he asked curiously. "I haven't forgotten my promise," he added hastily, "but I just wondered."

Elrond shook his head. "I doubt it. Very few healers are able to cure themselves – the shock and pain prevents you finding the stillness required. And it would use your strength and energy when you can least spare it. It would not be a good idea, even if you _could_ do it. Fortunately, I have never been in a situation where I had to do so."

He finished cleaning the deep gash, then took Elrohir's hand between his again. "I need to be sure you have not damaged the tendons," he explained. "Let me see." His eyes lost focus for a moment.

Elrohir felt a hot itch deep inside his hand. Intrigued, he closed his eyes and tried to follow what his father did. He was not _doing_ anything, he told himself, merely – observing.

"Stop it, Elrohir," Elrond admonished. "I can do this on my own. I do not need your help." He smiled to take the sting from the words.

"I'm sorry. I just wanted to watch," Elrohir admitted.

His father finished his examination and straightened. "This is deep. I think it will need stitching as well – then, with a little help, it will heal quickly without any scarring. You are lucky you can still move your fingers!" he added in warning. He reached into the medical pack again, and opened a small pot, smearing a little creamy-coloured paste over the gash. "That will numb the skin, so I can stitch it. How did you do this, anyway? It is not like you to be so careless."

Elrohir blinked. He had nearly forgotten about the snail stone. "I found something in the rock over there – a stone, a bit like a snail. I was trying to dig it out," he explained a little sheepishly. Looking up at Elladan, he added, "El, what happened to it? I didn't see."

Elladan pulled it out of a pocket. "I caught it when you finally gouged it out. He was using his dagger like a chisel!" he added to Elrond. "No wonder it broke." He made no mention, though, of _'I told you so'_, for which Elrohir was grateful.

"I suppose I should have listened to you," he admitted grudgingly.

"Of course you should, little brother! I know best, after all!"

Elrohir bit back his automatic retort. In this case, perhaps his brother _had_ known best – but he was not keen to admit it.

While they talked, Elrond had been threading a small needle with a length of fine thread. He prodded Elrohir's hand gently. "Can you feel that?" he asked.

"No." The salve had done its work, and Elrohir's palm was numb. Despite that, he flinched slightly as the needle first penetrated the skin, even though he could feel nothing. His father's calm voice distracted him, and he looked up.

"You broke your dagger? Digging out the stone? Well, perhaps we will be able to replace it soon. We will soon be back at Bree again – just a few days."

"Bu I don't _want_ a new one," Elrohir explained. "It's the one Elladan gave me for our begetting day last year. Oh, I wish I hadn't broken it!"

Elrond glanced down briefly. "Show me."

Elrohir picked up the dagger from the grass. "The point snapped off – do you see? Now it's blunt and jagged." He gave a long sigh of frustration at the loss, and at his own carelessness. "Do you think it can be mended?"

"Hmm – perhaps. We shall see." Elrond cut the final piece of thread with a flourish. "All finished," he announced, wiping the needle clean. To Elrohir's surprise, his palm had been neatly stitched across while they had discussed the dagger. He eyed his father with increased respect.

"There are other healing skills you can still learn," Elrond explained as he finished bandaging Elrohir's hand. "Preparing salves like the one I just used; identifying and collecting the roots and leaves; doing it at the right time of year. Some plants should only be cut at night, others in full sun. You will both find more than enough to watch and learn."

"There's something else, as well," Elladan added. "Talking to a patient, distracting them from what's happening. El didn't even notice what you were doing!"

Elrond smiled. "There is one more thing. A healer also has the power to command others to rest and sleep. To bed now, both of you. And please, I beg you – no more misadventures before we reach Bree!"

o-o-o

They reached Bree just after dusk a few days later. The gates had been closed, but the gate-keeper was happy enough to admit them. They rode a short way uphill to the inn and beneath the archway, where a groom came to meet them.

"Oh, 'tis you again, is it?" he greeted them affably. "Welcome back. Well, we've at least room for your horses again. I reckon my Da'll be pleased to see you, too. You was all a right talking point for weeks last time! Go on in – he's in the bar."

Ilmarin nodded. "Thank you, Dan." As the lad led the horses across the yard to a water trough, he murmured to the others, "Dan is Butterbur's son."

"Somehow I guessed that," Celebrían murmured back, her eyes dancing. They went into the inn, and Elrond pushed open the door into the bar. A burst of conversation and laughter drifted out. There was a waft of warm air, smelling slightly of sweat and ale. Attracting Butterbur's attention, Elrond beckoned to him, and the innkeeper joined them in the hallway.

"Well now, fancy that! I hoped you might pass this way on your way back home. Still the six of you, is it? And did you have a good journey? Good, good! Now then, I'm afraid we're quite busy tonight, and we've only two rooms free. Will that suit? I can squeeze an extra bed into each, so I can get you all in, but it'll be a tight fit, I warn you! Will that be all right? Anyway, I'll leave you to get settled, and the lass in the kitchen will rustle you up some supper." As he spoke, he showed them the two rooms, throwing open the doors and lighting candles as he went. Bellowing a message down the hall to the kitchens, he turned to them once more. "Well now, I'll go and get those other beds found. You sort yourselves out, and decide who goes where."

He bustled off, leaving all six staring after him in a slightly dazed silence. "He hasn't changed, has he?" Elladan ventured at last.

"No – and it would be a shame if he ever did," Elrond agreed. He peered into the room. It was just as small as he remembered, and with an additional bed, would be cramped indeed. "Now, how are we to arrange this?"

"I think it would be best if you share a room with Ilmarin and Eilenach," Celebrían told him, "and Elladan and Elrohir can be with me. It will only be for one night!" she added at their looks of dismay.

Eilenach exchanged a quick glance with his companion, and grinned. "If the twins would prefer to be with Lord Elrond," he began, "we do not mind if you share _our_ room, my lady – do we, Ilmarin?"

"No indeed!" Ilmarin agreed enthusiastically.

Elrond swallowed hard, and tried desperately to hide his mirth at his sons' scandalised expressions. "No, but I may," he told the guards dryly.

After supper – a thick, hearty soup served with crusty, still-warm bread; cheeses; and a sharp apple tart laden with fruit – they stayed in the tiny parlour. The inn's common-room seemed far too noisy and crowded after the weeks of peaceful nights beneath the stars. After a game of chess, Elladan and Elrohir retired to bed, yawning, denying that they were tired. As Elrond challenged Eilenach to a match, Ilmarin excused himself. "I will take a walk, I think. I feel too restless to sleep yet."

He returned some time later. Elrond, readying for bed after a fairly easy victory – heard his rapid footsteps along the hall, then Ilmarin entered. He closed the door hastily, and leaned against it, looking rather flustered. Elrond and Eilenach both stared at him, surprised to see the usually disciplined warrior so bemused. "Well? Whatever is the matter with you?" Eilenach demanded.

"I – I think I have just been propositioned," Ilmarin murmured.

"You _think_ you have been?" Elrond queried over Eilenach's laughter.

Ilmarin pulled himself together. "I walked beneath the stars for a while," he began, "then returned to the inn. I encountered one of the – ladies – of Bree. She asked if I was looking for a room for the night – or – or a _bed_," he croaked. "I wondered at first what she meant."

"Oh, you poor innocent," Eilenach murmured, shaking his head.

Ilmarin sighed. "Perhaps. I had forgotten that humans are so – casual – about such things. I think she mistook my hesitation," he continued, beginning to smile. "For then she said that as she had never been with an elf before, she could offer me 'a very good rate,' as she put it." His last words were spoken over the laughter of his companions.

"Will's mother?" Elrond asked, gaining control again.

"Aye, most likely," Ilmarin agreed soberly. "It seems she has not changed. Some people never do."

o-o-o

The next morning, Elladan and Elrohir took breakfast with their parents, then asked permission to go out again.

"I want to see Draug – I mean Garm – again," Elrohir explained. "And I need to see about my dagger."

Outside the inn, they hesitated over which errand should come first. "The wood yard's at the far side of town," Elladan pointed out. "And I think the best place to get your dagger mended will be the forge – and that's just along here. Let's do that first." He hesitated, regarding his brother solemnly. "El – Draug's owner said that he was old. He might – you know – he might not be there."

Elrohir nodded slowly. "I know that. But I need to find out. But you're right – we'll go to the forge first. Come on!"

The forge lay a short distance from the inn, facing the road. A horse was tethered outside, patiently waiting to be re-shod, and from the dark depths loud hammering could be heard. The twins paused in the doorway and peered inside. "Hello!" Elrohir shouted over the din. He could see the blacksmith's back, bent over the anvil as he pounded at something. "Hello!" he shouted again, more loudly.

The blacksmith straightened and turned around. His face broke into a scowl. "You again! What do you want?" he demanded.

It was Will.

**To Be Continued**

**Author's Notes**: I will tell the story of the twins' visit to Mithlond in a later tale. This is the story of Elrohir's discovery of his healing abilities, so I have concentrated on that aspect. The return to Bree is to tie up a few loose ends.


	7. Discoveries And Surprises

**Chapter Seven – Discoveries And Surprises**

Elrohir stared at Will, for some reason the last person he had expected to encounter. It was not that he had forgotten that the boy's punishment was to work with the blacksmith; but he had not thought about it either. He had certainly not expected this confrontation. Aware of his own silence, and of Elladan at his side glaring at Will with great hostility, he took the damaged knife from his belt. "My dagger is broken. I wondered if it could be mended," he explained curtly. "Is the blacksmith here? Mr Rushlight?"

Will grunted. "Not here yet. I sometimes open up for 'im. Give it here – let me see."

Elrohir hesitated slightly, then held out the dagger, hilt first, for Will's inspection. Will took the dagger from him and peered at it closely, examining the blade carefully. He ran a finger along it, raising his eyebrows at the keen edge, and studied the jagged break critically. He flicked a fingernail at the tip and listened to the ring of metal.

Finally he turned back to the twins, and nodded. "Yes, I can fix it – no problem. You'll have to wait, though – I have to see to the horse first." He jerked a thumb towards the yard. "Leave it with me – come back in about an hour. It'll be a bit shorter than it was, though – that all right?"

Wordlessly, Elrohir nodded. Will turned his back on them, and resumed hammering – even more loudly and ferociously than before, it seemed. Elladan tugged at his brother's arm, and they went back out across the yard and onto the road.

"I never expected to see _him_ here!" Elladan hissed in disgust.

Elrohir shook his head. "Nor me. I hope I'm doing the right thing – perhaps we should have waited for the proper blacksmith?"

"He seemed to know what he was doing though, didn't he?" Elladan admitted reluctantly. "I expect it will be all right. If not, Rushlight will be able to fix it properly!"

They walked along the road to the wood yard at the far end of the town. Elrohir grew silent as they neared the yard, remembering Elladan's words of warning. He hoped against hope that his brother was wrong – but Draug had been _old_. The healing he had done may have rejuvenated the dog temporarily, but he knew that age killed mortal creatures. Who knew what may have happened during the months since they had left Bree?

The gate stood open, and again a strong scent of freshly cut timber hung in the air. As they rounded the corner, Elrohir began to hang back, not wanting to see. Suddenly excited barking broke out, and Draug bounded up to them, his tail waving madly.

Appleton appeared from the little hut. "Hello? Can I help you?" Seeing the twins, he raised a hand in recognition. "Hello again! You're back, are you? And I can see old Garm's as pleased to see you as ever!"

Elrohir, on his knees beside the dog, looked up with a smile. "Yes – I wanted to come back and see him again. We were a bit afraid that he might not be here, but he looks really well!" He rubbed Draug's ears – no, he would have to call him _Garm_ – and patted him as he stood again.

"Aye, he's that all right!" Appleton nodded. "I'm glad you came by – I hoped you might if you came back this way. I've something here of Garm's you might like to see."

He led the way into his hut. It was tiny, and very cramped. A small stove stood near the corner with a kettle on it, and a deep chair faced it. A long table took up most of the rest of the space, littered with papers, pencils, tape measures and rulers, and a generous coating of sawdust. Beneath the table, at the end nearest the stove, was a basket. In the basket were two puppies, curled up together, contentedly asleep.

"Careful, now!" Appleton warned.

The twins both gave exclamations of delight, and cautiously approached the basket, not wanting to alarm Garm's offspring. The puppies awoke, and walked on slightly wobbly legs towards them. Elladan looked up with a smile. "They're beautiful!" he exclaimed. "Is Garm really their father?"

"Aye – can't you see how they take after him? I never thought he had it in him; thought he were past all that nonsense – but after you'd gone he found himself a lady friend up in the town, and the next thing we knew, she'd had nine pups. Nine!" Appleton repeated for emphasis.

"Nine? Garm, you clever dog!" Elrohir praised him, stroking one of the puppies gently.

Appleton watched with a smile. "Now, the thing is, nine's too many. So, soon as they was old enough, I took four of them. I found a farmer who had one, and there's a little girl whose cat just died, and I can keep one myself – but I don't want two. What I was wondering, was if you might want one of these two? Would your ma and pa agree?"

"_Yes_!" For once, Elrohir did not mind in the least that he and Elladan spoke simultaneously, in complete agreement. "Yes; I know they would say yes," Elrohir continued. "But are you sure? We could really have one?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Appleton confirmed. "I've got Garm. If you want to, you can have one of his pups – call it repayment for what you did. But you _must_ ask your ma and pa first. It's no good telling me they'd say 'yes' – I know kids!"

"But they _would_ say yes," Elrohir began, then paused. "We'll ask them first," he agreed, to save argument. There was no doubt in his mind at all that his parents would agree, but Appleton was clearly not convinced.

He glanced at Elladan, and to his surprise saw a slight doubt in his eyes. Staring at his twin, he suddenly understood his brother's hesitation.

"But there's two of the puppies," Elladan began. "To take one of them,"

"To separate them," Elrohir continued.

"It wouldn't be right," Elladan explained. "They'd be unhappy if they weren't together."

"So thank you very, very much – but we can't," Elrohir concluded sadly. He gave the puppies one last look, then turned away. He knew he could never bring himself to part them, and it was better that they stayed with Appleton – together – than for him and Elladan to choose one and split them up.

Appleton gazed at them both, gave a slow smile, and nodded. "I understand," he said. "How about if you had both? Think they'd be happy then?"

"Both? Yes, but …"

"Right!" Appleton told them firmly. "You go and ask your parents; and if they say yes, you can have the two. All right?"

"_Yes_!" two enthusiastic voices confirmed.

o-o-o

After a further farewell to Garm and his offspring, they hurried back to the Prancing Pony, stopping at the forge to collect Elrohir's knife.

The horse was gone, and in the hot, dark depths Elrohir could now see two figures working at the anvil, hammers pounding in turn at a long strip of metal. Will looked up, saw them, and broke off with a curt signal to Rushlight. He crossed to the door, and thrust the dagger towards Elrohir.

"There – it's done," the youth said shortly. "I reshaped it to make a new point; but like I said, it's shorter than it was. Couldn't match the quality of the metal. Still, it's good and sharp; but we can't get the new edge as sharp as the old part is. We both tried. How'd you get the blade so keen?" he demanded.

Elrohir took his knife, and looked at it carefully. The jagged, broken edge had been reforged into a new point, and it looked nearly as good as when Elladan had first given it to him. The metal looked a little duller than before, and it was undoubtedly shorter, but he was elated to have his dagger back again. He looked at Will. "Thank you! How much …"

Will shook his head impatiently. "There's no charge. All right?" He glanced over his shoulder at Rushlight, and lowered his voice. "Look, I'm sorry about what happened before. It were wrong. So don't worry about the money – just take your knife. All right?" Without waiting for an answer, he turned away and rejoined Rushlight at the anvil.

Elrohir stared after him in utter amazement, then slowly replaced the dagger in his belt. In this day of surprises, this was surely the strangest of all.

"Did that just happen? he asked Elladan as they walked the short distance to the inn.

Elladan nodded. "Yes, but I don't believe it!" he avowed. "He said 'sorry'! And it sounded like he meant it!"

"And he mended my dagger, and he did it nearly as well as the smiths at home!" Elrohir enlarged. "He seemed – different. He's changed. He's still bad-tempered, but he's better than before."

"I wonder what happened to Harry?" Elladan pondered, as they entered the inn.

Brindley Butterbur overheard them. "Harry?" he asked in disgust. "He started off washing dishes, but he kept dropping things – smashed half my plates, he did! So I put him in the stables, but he upset the horses with his ways. He's working on one of the farms now, but his ma keeps bleating that the hours are too long, and he has to get up too early, and work too hard. I don't know what'll become of the lad! Now that Will – he had some ups and downs at first, it's true; but he soon learned, and now old Rushlight says he don't know how he managed without the lad!"

o-o-o

As Elrohir had known, Elrond and Celebrían were delighted at the thought of Garm's puppies joining them. "But will they be able to cope with the journey?" Celebrían asked anxiously – it was her only reservation. "It is too far for them to walk alongside the horses, and you cannot _carry_ them all that way!"

"I have an idea," Eilenach suggested. "We spoke to one of the grooms – his wife is a basket weaver. She has two panniers. Your sons' horses could carry one apiece, and the dogs could travel in those when they tire!"

They set out the next morning for Imladris. The two puppies – Garaf and Angneleg – bounded along at their side, deftly avoiding the horses' hooves. Elrohir glanced back at the town once last time, then faced forward. It had been a most eventful journey, and was not yet over – but Imladris lay ahead, the peaceful and tranquil valley that was their home. He and Elladan would continue their training in the most basic skills of healing, and in time there would be the opportunity to explore the more skilled aspects. Until then there would be weapons training; warrior skills to learn; and their continuing studies of history and languages – studies that made so much more sense now, having seen and heard so many different races. He turned and gave a sharp whistle. "Come Garaf! This way!"

With a glance at Elladan, they rode homewards.

**The End**

**Author's Notes:** As far as I can tell, Garaf means 'wolf' (as Draug does) and Angneleg means 'iron tooth' (in other words, he bites!)


End file.
